The Distant Affair
The building breathes. You feel it in the floorboards. A low, tectonic hum. It is not the HVAC. It is not the city outside. It is the structure itself, dreaming. You are in the archive. Sub-basement four. The air is cold and tastes of ozone and old dust. Your badge hangs loose on your chest. A plastic rectangle. It says Employee. It says Nothing Else. You are a prisoner here. Not by law. By...
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